The Price of Admission You attend church every SundayMidweek included. Tithes and offerings paid faithfully. Acknowledgement of your service to the church is given from the pulpit regularly. Your church outfit is on point. That hat is fierce. You stand poised and confident in your religion. You sing in the choir. You lead various committees. You arrive ahead of time for service. Scripture pours forth from your lips like silky rain. You even-perhaps, speak in Tongue. Your navy blue suit is immaculate. The red silk tie is the perfect accent. You shake hands in welcome to the congregation. Visitors are greeted with confidence, self-assurance and a welcoming smile. You don't recognize the man you refused to provide a battery jump. You shake your head with impatience when the person in line ahead of you doesn't have enough money for groceries and is deciding what she should put back. You ran quickly to the alter to place money in the basket for the family the pastor seeks to help. Yet you roll up your windows and become intrigued by your radio buttons while the man outside holds a sign asking for money or food. After all, no one is there to see, how else can receive your due credit and pat on the back? You are the master of praying by rote. You are able to command tears on queue. Yet you criticize your fellow man for not praying as reverently as you. How dare she come to church-dressed like that?! Every night the television news broadcasts the turmoil in which our children are embroiled. You shake your head in disgust, blame the parents and change the channel. If it does not directly impact your life, it is of no consequence to you. You stand confidently in front of St. Peter. Waiting patiently as he checks the Book of Life.
You are astonished and appalled to learn that your name is not written within. Indignantly you cry out: I did my part! I paid my tithes! I gave generous offerings! I went to church! I memorized scripture! I dressed the part! Oh Foolish one! The Church is greater than bricks and mortar. The Church is the hungry man on the street. The Church is the lady who cannot afford to feed her children. The Church is the child who lives in turmoil and no means of escape. The Church is built with love and compassion for those who seek but struggle to find. The Church is built for those who have lost their way. The Church is a beacon for those who have gone astray.